


Coming Home

by ScribbledGhost



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Other, character death but he's still around, my significant other is a ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbledGhost/pseuds/ScribbledGhost
Summary: He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be this cold.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader, Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/You
Comments: 1





	Coming Home

Jack had always promised you his life. He’d always promised you that no matter what, he would always come home to you. Despite the fact that you knew such promises typically only heralded strings of misfortune, you allowed him to make them regardless.

Oh, how you wished you hadn’t.

“I fucked up, baby,” he murmured to you, a shine in his eyes as he tenderly caressed your cheek with a chilled hand, “I fucked up so bad.”

You were in shock, unable to fully comprehend his story, much less his presence and appearance. He’d called you mere minutes before, telling you how he was going to give some fresh Kingsman agent some backup after his partner had severely wounded Jack unprovoked. His tone had seemed off, and despite you telling him to let it go, to come home and recuperate, he’d only promised you that he’d come home to you once his task was finished.

You’d nearly jumped out of your skin when you’d heard his dulcet tones nearby. It would have been impossible for him to take care of his business and make it back home in such a short amount of time.

He shouldn’t have been here.

“What happened to you?” You asked, a shake in your tone as your eyes welled with tears. He shouldn’t be here.

“I… I don’t know what happened,” he admitted, “I woke up after that bastard fired at me in the cabin, and I just… my head wasn’t on straight anymore. I tried to get ‘em to condemn billions of people to death. That ain’t me, darlin’, you know it ain’t. But I just… I don’t know what happened. I tried to take ‘em both on, but somethin’ happened, and I…”

You started to shake your head, tears cascading down your cheeks as you stared at him in denial.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be this cold.

“I… I think I’m dead,” Jack breathed, wisps of tears sliding down his own face as he tenderly touched at your features.

“You’re not,” you replied, your tone watery and weak, “how are you here if you’re dead?”

“I promised that I’d come home,” he whispered, “gotta keep my promise.”

Your body heaved with fresh sobs at his words, and you let him pull you into an embrace, his form surprisingly solid compared to how you thought a spirit would feel. However, he held no body heat, no trace of the warmth that once filled him. But you clung to him nonetheless, grasping for him and attempting to come to terms with his demise and apparent unrest. You heard him cry with you, felt his own chest stutter with uneven breaths.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, “You told me to come home and I didn’t. I should’ve listened to you, baby. I should’ve listened.”

“Not your fault,” you sniffled, your tears beginning to subside enough for you to speak, “you were hurt. You weren’t thinking straight. It wasn’t you.”

Jack continued to hold you in his arms, neither of you moving to break the embrace out of fear that he’d disappear once you did. You were unsure of how long the two of you stood there, but eventually you murmured a question to him.

“Do… do you have to leave now? You kept your promise. You came home.”

You didn’t want him to leave. You desperately, viscerally didn’t want him to disappear, your stomach turning at the idea of having to see him fading into oblivion while knowing it was only a matter of time before a Statesman representative contacted you to tell you of his death.

“I ain’t goin’ until you come with me,” he said, keeping you in his chilled embrace, “and you ain’t comin’ with me for a long, long time.”

You pulled away from him slightly then, looking at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

“You… you’re staying?” You asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m stayin’,” Jack answered, “Just cause I’m dead don’t mean I can’t still take care of you. I’m home, and I’m not leavin’ you again.”

Your eyes welled with fresh tears, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him into another embrace. It would take some adjustments, but it was all a small price to pay to have a second chance with your beloved.

As expected, another Statesman employee came by your home a week later, sitting down with you and explaining that Jack had gotten killed in the line of duty. The man was polite and cordial, and even went so far as to commend you for “keeping things together so well” after he’d given you the news.

“I knew there was always a possibility of this happening whenever Jack would leave,” you replied, “besides, there’s still plenty of him around to remember him by.”

You noticed some movement out of the corner of your eye, and after flitting your eyes over to catch Jack staring at the two of you with a bemused grin that you found yourself mirroring, you continued.

“In a way, it’s almost as if he never left.”


End file.
